


Bareback

by Lise



Category: Benighted - Kit Whitfield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo discovers the truth about his aunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bareback

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UltimiScopuli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimiScopuli/gifts).



Leo remembered the day he'd first realized that his aunt wasn't like other people.

He knew, of course, that she was different, but only in little ways. He liked to touch the scars on her hands, because they felt so different from everyone else, and they were interesting. His aunt always sat very still with her sleeves up and let him trace a little maze with small hands, his mother told him, when he was a baby. He got the idea that his mother didn't really like that; it seemed to make her uncomfortable.

But he thought it was just something like hair or eyes, and it was just different and maybe even kind of special. He was about four and it was a blurry memory, but she'd come over, looking exhausted, leaning against the doorway.

"Auntie!" He cried, but she looked over his head at his mother and said in a strange voice, "I had a rough day at work. Can I stay here?"

There was a long and uncomfortable pause, and finally his mother nodded. But even then his aunt didn't look at him, just vanished into the spare bedroom and didn't emerge even for dinner when his mom made macaroni and cheese. Later she came out and played some piano, but only for a little while, and she was gone in the morning.

It wasn't that his aunt didn't come over often – while it wasn't exactly frequent, she still took him out for walks in the stroller fairly often, and most of the time she was just fine, so he decided that it was probably just a strange thing.

Leo was a little older, maybe five, when she came to their house when his mother was in the shower, or something. He didn't open the door, of course, but then she looked in through the glass and said, "It's me," and because he was bored with his toys Leo opened the door.

She sat down cross-legged on the floor and looked at him very seriously, so he looked at her back, thinking it was some kind of staring contest. But she didn't make faces at him or anything, just looked serious.

"Leo, do you know what it means that I have these scars?" She said in a quiet voice, and he looked at her hands and arms and shook his head.

"Good," she said, "When you grow up, Leo, I don't want you to look at people differently because they have scars and you don't. I know you will, because no one can help it, but I wish you wouldn't."

Then his mother emerged from the shower, towel around her hair, and looked at his aunt and tensed. "What are you doing here? What have you been saying?"

His aunt rubbed her face, sounding tired. He reached out to tug on her hair, because sometimes that made her laugh, but she looked at him like she'd never seen his face before. "I think you should tell your son about barebacks," she said.

"I know about – my teacher said to call them – not that. Something else. She said it's a bad word."

Lola shook her head. "It's a true word. I don't mean the facts, Becca. I mean the important parts." His mother's voice shook a little, and he looked back over his shoulder at her, nervously.

"Why did you come here?" She asked. "Why do you always have to-"

"Paul visited today," his aunt said, which meant nothing to Leo but seemed to mean a lot to his mother, because she stopped talking and then said, more quietly, "Leo, I think it's time for bed."

"It's early!" He whined. "I'm not sleepy, I'm not-"

"Go to bed," his mother said, more sharply, and Leo went and curled up under the covers, even though he wasn't sleepy, not at all. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he did think about it, and about what his aunt said and everything he'd always heard about normal people.

He asked his mother the next morning. "Where does Aunt Lola work?"

She looked at him for a long time, then turned back to making her eggs. "She works at DORLA," she said, neutrally, and Leo understood, at least, everything that meant.


End file.
